


Behind closed doors

by sixtotenpotatoes (schiefergrau)



Series: tumblr prompt fills [1]
Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Getting Together, LA Era (Crooked Media RPF), M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 17:53:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17430683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schiefergrau/pseuds/sixtotenpotatoes
Summary: Sometimes all it takes to come out of the closet is someone else's anniversary, a stupid banner, and clever friends.Prompt: “Do you think they can hear us?” / “Yes! We can!”





	Behind closed doors

**Author's Note:**

> If you know someone mentioned in this story or are mentioned yourself, please click away. This is a work of fiction about fictional characters who happen to share their names and faces with some real people. I'm aware of the difference between them, and I trust you are as well.  
> Please do not share this work with anyone outside of fandom spaces.
> 
> Many thanks to [tommyandthejons](https://tommyandthejons.tumblr.com) for beta reading. <3

“Absolutely not, Lovett! This is your idea so you should be the one responsible for the execution!”

“But you owe me, Tommy!” Lovett whines and cranes his neck from where he’s lounging on the office couch to look at Tommy. “You _owe_ me!”

“Why? For what?” Tommy leans back in his chair and stretches his legs out. The day has been too long already and this right here isn’t helping. 

“May I remind you of the wine?” Lovett aks in a grave voice. 

“What wine?” Tommy furrows his brows. “What wine are we talking about?” 

“The honeymoon wine, Tommy! The wine you excluded me from! The wine that almost killed our friendship. _That_ wine.”

“I can’t believe we’re still talking about the fucking wine…,” Tommy mumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. It wasn’t _intentional_. It wasn’t meant to _exclude_ Lovett...

“It was a breach of trust! A stab to the heart, no, a stab in the back! Et tu, Brute? Et tu?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Lovett.” Tommy sighs. He closes his laptop nonetheless and begins gathering his stuff. He hates the fact that his thoughtlessness hurt Lovett back then, even if he’s sure it’s mainly a bit at this point.

When he’s ready to leave and Lovett still hasn’t moved from his place on the couch at all Tommy looks down at him, eyebrows raised. “You’re coming?” he asks. 

Lovett lifts his gaze up from his phone. “What? Where to?”

“Buying stuff for Jon’s and Emily’s anniversary. Their reservation is for 7, Jon said, so we better hurry if we want to be done in time!”

*

There’s a sharp pain in his jaw and a budding headache behind his left temple, and Tommy just wants to be fucking _done_ with this. He didn’t expect it to go down like this. If he had, he would have never agreed to it. Fuck Lovett for appealing to Tommy’s conscience.

“I don’t think they would appreciate this, Lovett,” Tommy says and he sounds so very tired that he almost hopes Lovett’s going to give in, if just out of pity.

“Emily sure would. It’s like you don’t know them at all!” Lovett says, turning the bottle in his hands as if he’s trying to hawk it on QVC. 

It doesn’t make the wine any more appealing to Tommy. Not any more appealing than the ‘romantic’ dick shaped balloons or Lovett’s idea to use decoration rocks instead of flower petals. “Marriage is a rocky road, after all,” he had said, and Tommy gently reminded him that it wasn't appropriate for the occasion.

“Novelty wine for an anniversary? I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” 

“Okay, fine.” Lovett pouts and puts the bottle back onto the shelve. “Then let's buy champagne and do it the boring cliche way. Should have known you would be a party pooper.”

They end up with two bags of slightly tasteless decoration, because “If we do cliche, let’s go the whole way”, and a greeting card that Lovett found at a small bookstore around a corner. It reads “Let’s make our marriage great again” and has a hideous comic version of Trump on it. Tommy made an exception for that. 

*

“Why am I the one trying to attach this banner to the ceiling when obviously _you_ should be the one, given your natural advantages when it comes to ceilings,” Lovett yells from Emily’s and Jon’s bedroom, two hours later. The whole shopping trip took them longer than expected and now they are in exactly the sort of hurry Tommy wanted to avoid. 

“Because you were the one who thought we need a fucking banner?” Tommy yells back and pulls the champagne from the freezer. Cold isn’t really the word he would use for it, but it’ll have to do. He fills a cooler with water and ice and carries both over to the bedroom.

Lovett s balanced on his tiptoes at the edge of the bed, holding one end of the banner up, trying to reach the ceiling. His shirt rides up his back and Tommy can see a stripe of naked skin and the edge of Lovett’s underwear. He forces himself to look away and puts champagne and cooler on the dresser. This is not the time, he reminds himself. It’s never the time for this. 

Just when he turns around to watch Lovett’s vain attempts unfold further—and he’s not going to offer him any help, because quite frankly, Tommy thinks the banner sucks—Lovett wobbles dangerously. It’s like everything happens in slow motion: Lovett’s flailing arms, him tipping backward, the surprised sound he makes, and before Tommy knows it, he finds himself launching forward 

It’s good he does because right then Lovett loses his footing completely and a moment later he lands heavy in Tommy’s arms.

Lovett blinks owlishly up at Tommy and huffs. “Huh. This could have ended way worse.” 

“You don’t say,” Tommy groans. His breath goes rapid, his heart is pounding wildly in his chest. Images are flashing in front of his eyes, pictures of Lovett on the floor, blood painting the wood red, and his stomach sinks. This could have ended way, way worse.

“You can let go of me now,” Lovett says after a what could be seconds or minutes. Tommy has no idea, still feels like he’s standing beside himself. 

He clears his throat. “Yeah, sure. I’m going to do that now.” It’s only reluctantly that he lets Lovett down to the floor, and even then he can’t quite bring himself to take his hands away completely, palms still resting on Lovett’s upper arms. He can feel the curve of muscles under the shirt, and for a second he gets lost in the fantasy of letting his hands run down Lovett’s bare arms. His mouth gets dry, and he feels a blush creeping up his neck. 

They’re standing close, too close, so close that Tommy can feel the heat of Lovett’s body, so close that he can smell faint traces of detergent and sweat on Lovett. So close that Tommy would just need to lean down and— 

Their eyes meet and for a heartbeat, Tommy thinks Lovett knows what he’s thinking. For a heartbeat, Tommy thinks he’s finally going to be brave and do something that he’s wanted to do for a long time now. He lets one hand glide up Lovett’s arm, shirt crumpling under his fingers, and just when his fingertips reach the edge of the shirt, just when they touch the warm skin of Lovett’s neck—

—the sound of the front door opening disrupts the silence.

They stare at each other, breathlessly and frozen, and then there's a frantic tangle of limbs. Lovett almost hits Tommy in the face, and when Tommy slips on something he realizes that artificial flower petals on a wooden floor might not have been the smartest idea. Everything happens too fast, and suddenly Lovett has an iron grip on Tommy’s wrist and pulls Tommy and the banner with him. Tommy almost slips again, this time on that stupid thing.

“Lovett, what—”

“Shh,” Lovett hisses. “Be quiet. We need to hide!”

“Wha— We can’t—”

But Lovett is already pushing him out the door out of the door and into the hallway. To Tommy’s horror, he can hear the low rumble of Jon’s voice and Emily’s bright laughter, coming closer and closer.

“Shit.” Lovett freezes in Tommy’s back. “Shit. We need to—” He places a hand on Tommy’s back to push him forward, but Tommy knows they are just about to turn around the corner. More panicked than is appropriate for this situation he pushes Lovett back into the bedroom and to the window.

“Are you mental? I’m not going out that window!” Lovett stops on the spot so that Tommy runs into him.

“It’s either that or—”

“The closet,” Lovett whispers, opening the door and waving insistently. 

Tommy wants to protest, but the voices in the hallway get louder and suddenly Lovett hauls him forward by the wrist. 

Tommy collides heavily with the doorframe and for a moment he sees stars. Then he sees nothing at all because Lovett closes the door behind them. 

“Are you crazy? How long do you think we can hide in here??” Tommy whispers.

“As long as we fucking need,” Lovett whispers back, so much closer to Tommy’s ear than he expected. It’s just now that Tommy realizes _how_ small this space is, and that they’re trapped in here for who-knows-how-long.

“Lovett, we can not do this. This is their fucking bedroom! We can’t—”

“Quiet now,” Lovett hisses.

Tommy wants to say something, just to not be alone in the silence with his epiphany, but then he can hear the door to the bedroom being pushed open and Emily’s voice saying, “Oh, what’s this?! Did you do that? When—”

“No,” Jon interrupts her, slowly, “I didn’t— What the fuck is _this_?” 

There’s the sound of feet and then there’s a rustling outside the closet. Tommy guesses it’s probably the banner that Lovett deserted somewhere along the way. 

The goddamn banner. Without it, they could have been out of here early enough. Now they’re trapped in the closet in the bedroom of a couple on the night of their anniversary. And they didn’t even do their job properly. Great. Really amazing. Tommy is ecstatic.

“That’s pretty stupid,” Jon says over more rustling.

Tommy feels a bit vindictive about it, whatever it is Jon’s actually referring to. At least he does until Emily says, “I think it’s hilarious!”, and Lovett elbows him in the stomach. Probably out of the same feeling of vindictiveness. 

“Who do you think—”

“I think _that_ is pretty telling.” 

Tommy asks himself what Jon’s referring to, and guesses, after Emily says, “Aww, that’s cute. Did you have any idea they were planning this?” that they probably found the card. 

“Non at all. Also, this really reads Lovett all over it. Have you seen the banner? I wonder how he got Tommy to participate.”

“Really,” Emily says, tone dripping with sarcasm. “ _You wonder?_ ”

Tommy’s cheeks and ears burn instantly with embarrassment. He’s so, so glad that it’s at least dark in this fucking closet. Breathing away the need to yell at her to _please, just stop talking_ he leans his head back and closes his eyes. Never before he realized how much he _doesn’t_ want to listen to the Favreaus talk about him being a sad and lonely single with a hopeless crush. Tommy swallows heavy, throat clicking too loud in the silence. The—silence?

He blinks down at Lovett, unsure when the voices outside died down. But Lovett is no help because he’s obviously unable to interpret the vague gestures Tommy makes with his head. 

“Are they gone?” Tommy mouths in a final helpless try, knowing this won’t bring him closer to the answer. It’s just too dark. So he takes a deep breath through the nose, bracing himself, and leans down to where he guesses Lovett’s ear has to be somewhere. 

When Tommy turns his head, his lips graze the outer shell of Lovett’s ear. He wants to let them linger, more than ever, more than anything, and even more so when he feels a shiver run through Lovett’s body. But he has no right to, so he whispers, “Are they gone?”

“No idea,” Lovett whispers back, “they got quiet suddenly and now…” Tommy feels him shrug, shoulder rubbing up against Tommy’s chest. It shouldn’t be something Tommy’s brain decides to carefully store away for later, but it does. 

After a while, when there’s still no sound coming from outside the closet, Tommy whispers, as silently as he can, “Do you _think_ they’re gone?”

“I don’t know, Tommy. Can I look through doors?” Lovett asks, sharp and probably too loud.

“I don’t know, Lovett. Can you?” Tommy bites back. He’s not enjoying this any more than Lovett is. Probably less. But also probably more. It’s all a mess in Tommy’s head and his body is still in active crisis mode, hyper-alert and tense. He shifts a bit and bumps into Lovett again. 

“There’s not enough room in here,” Lovett huffs. Tommy can feel hot air puffing against his shirt. It makes his skin prickle. 

Carefully he tries to meld further into the wall, and at first, it seems like a success. He brought a bit more distance between them if the absence of warmth is any indicator. Tommy is simultaneously relieved and disappointed. 

But before he can decide which is the more intense emotion, his hand slips from where he propped himself up and Tommy tumbles. His shoulder hits something he can’t identify in the darkness. The sound it makes cuts through the silence. 

It should be the most shocking thing for Tommy—but it isn’t.

Because Lovett’s hands are on Tommy’s hips, holding him, safe and steady. Like Tommy weighs nothing. 

Tommy’s insides flip. His blood pumps boiling through his veins until he can hear nothing but the rush of blood and his own heartbeat. 

“Never say I don’t pay back favors,” Lovett whispers, warm and too close to Tommy’s face. His fingertips press into Tommy’s hips, burning through the layer of fabric and sending goosebumps all over his body. Tommy’s chest is tight, and suddenly he can’t live a second longer without having kissed Jon Lovett.

So he does.

So he leans in, slowly, in the darkness of a closet where they have no business being, and kisses Lovett. Soft and closed mouth, one hand on his cheek. 

Tommy’s heart surges at the very first contact and he knows he will never not want this now. One way street, no way back.

And maybe that’s okay, Tommy thinks. Because after the first couple of seconds frozen in shock Lovett makes a sound, small and in the back of his throat, that sounds like a yes, and a more, and a please, all in once. 

Maybe it’s okay because Lovett closes his arms around him, one hand on the small of Tommy’s back, one between his shoulder blades, pulling him closer and closer until there is no space left between them. 

It’s one of the most uncomfortable kisses of Tommy’s life. Caged in between the wall of the closet and Lovett, half standing, half hanging in there, something still pressing almost painfully into his shoulder blade. And still. And still, it’s one of the best kisses he'd ever had. It tastes like lost years and suppressed emotions, like longing and wanting. Like _having_. And like a promise. 

Lovett moans against Tommy’s lips, a small, fragile moan, barely audible. But it’s enough to remind them of where they are. They freeze mid kiss and stare at each other in the darkness. The situation is so silly that Tommy can’t stop a breathy little laugh. 

Lovett’s hand snaps up, almost hitting Tommy in the face—again—and presses it over his mouth. “Shh,” he hisses, but Tommy can feel him silently laughing. It makes him warm and soft, and so hopeful that he pulls Lovett back into a tight embrace. 

When Lovett melts against him his heart wants to explode with joy. This right here makes it all worth it, all the stupid shit they bought, all the stupid arguments they had. Tommy grins into Lovett’s hair and listens into the room. There’s no sound coming from the outside, and maybe they’re really this lucky? Maybe they’ll be able to get away with, well _this_. All of it.

Lovett must have thought the same thing, because he whispers, “Do you think they can hear us?”

Before Tommy can answer, a voice outside the closet says, “Yes! We can!” 

Jon’s voice.

Fuck.

Embarrassment rushes through him in a hot wave. He runs his hands over his clothes, in a hopeless attemptto make himself look more presentable. Next to him, he can feel Lovett do the same. He has no idea for whom they’re even trying.

But then Lovett squeezes his hand reassuringly, and Tommy thinks that even this will be so, so worth it.

Lovett takes a last deep breath and then he opens the closet door.

Jon and Emily sit next to each other on their bed, both have their phones in hand and their eyebrows raised high. 

Goddammit, Tommy thinks. Texting instead of talking. That explains the silence. They should have guessed that, to be honest. 

“Interesting way to come out of the closet, Tom,” Jon says, grinning at them. 

Lovett groans and slumps against Tommy’s shoulder. “Seriously?! You had all that time and that’s the best you came up with? I’m really disappointed in you, Jonathan.”

“Well, I just won 50 dollars, so I’m not disappointed at all,” Emily remarks. 

“You bet on us?” Lovett sounds indignant. 

“Oh, for sure.” She nods and raises her hand in the air. “High five for the winner?”

Jon obeys immediately, grinning, even though he’s probably the loser in this bet. 

Emily is still grinning, still holding her hand up. “Anyone else?” she asks, looking from Lovett to Tommy and back. 

Tommy sighs and shrugs, and lets their hands meet in the air. 

Lovett looks up at him inquisitively. “You weren’t in on that as well, were you? Because if you were you better share that money. Or take me to dinner with it. You know, that would be fair I think.” He has faint traces of a blush on his cheeks, and it’s the most adorable thing Tommy has seen in a while. 

Tommy shakes his head and smile. “Nah. I just thought, a high five between winners…”

Lovett groans. “Why are none of you funny? Why do I have to work with amateurs?” 

“Learn to take a compliment, Lovett,” Tommy says and wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Also, I think it’s time to leave for us now. Let Emily and Jon enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“Oh, we got a great show, don’t worry! I’ll take this kind of entertainment for an anniversary any day.”

“Don’t get too excited,” Lovett warns. “I don’t plan to seduce any more men in your closet.”

“I really hope you don’t,” Tommy says and squeezes Lovett’s shoulder. “And now let's go get dinner. I seem to owe you one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the anon who requested 88. “Do you think they can hear us?” / 89. “Yes! We can!” from [this](https://sixtotenpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/181648773569/as-writing-promptsreblog-or-like-if-you-wanna) list of prompts. 
> 
> Previous prompt fills on tumblr: 
> 
> [ "First one to make a noise loses" ](https://sixtotenpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/181784786949/67-first-one-to-make-a-noise-loses-tommyjon)  
> [ “Cause if you did, we’re having sex. Right now.” ](https://sixtotenpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/181814650539/87-for-the-fic-prompt-meme-please-i-dont-need)  
> [ “Just please…no birds.” ](https://sixtotenpotatoes.tumblr.com/post/181842433314/99)
> 
>  
> 
>  


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